


Phil Lester's weirdly wired brain

by Llamadramaphan



Category: Phandom
Genre: Fluff, Swearing, Underage - Freeform, and Dan just enjoys it, like alot of it, so that's it for the inappropriateness, so yeah Phil's just a little weird, they end up kissing in the end, this is just a short drabble I wrote when I was feeling kinda happy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-24
Updated: 2015-11-24
Packaged: 2018-05-03 06:00:08
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,102
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5279429
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Llamadramaphan/pseuds/Llamadramaphan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Something Dan knew for sure about Phil Lester, the boy who was living in the house right next to his, was that he was absolutely nuts. And weirdly endearing - especially when he was hanging from a roof.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Phil Lester's weirdly wired brain

I’m not saying that I hate living next to Phil – all I am saying is that he is a little piece of shit and that I want to kick his ass into next week at least three times a day.  
It’s not even an overstatement.   
It’s like his brain is wired differently to everyone else’s, like he’s some kind of alien that possessed the body of a kid whose parents chose to move to the shitty little neighbourhood our family lives in, causing said alien to end up being my best friend since as long as I can think.  
And every once in a while, his brain just surpasses itself.  
That time is right now.

“What the actual fuck?”  
My breath is still quickened and my hand is shaking as I push open the window, staring blankly at my supposedly best friend just…laying there.  
On the freaking roof.  
The freaking ROOF.  
“The fuck are you- are you DOING?!”  
My voice rises a few octaves as I finish my whisper-scream and Phil lets out a little chuckle, nearly causing his weird lanky body to slide down the tiles – god I wish he had just fallen off, that motherfucker.   
“Oh I’m just – hanging out.”  
I bet he winked at me at that point but I couldn’t see – because of how freaking DARK it was.   
Which is something pretty normal for it being 3 fucking am.   
“I am going to kill you.”  
He laughs again, this time he really does slip – I suck in my breath (just because I wanted him to fall, of fucking course ehem) – and let it out again as he manages to pull himself up again.   
“Well if you don’t kill yourself before that I mean.”  
My breath isn’t ragged by now and I can even see the humor in what’s going on – Phil’s weirdly wired brain just told him to do something utterly weird once again, no biggie.   
“Oh my god Dan, don’t say that!” Phil calls out and the slight panic in his voice causes a laugh to erupt from my throat – oh shit. Probably shouldn’t be too loud.   
My eyes flash to the window next to mine, separating my parent’s room from the outside world in which a weird Phil Lester annoys a very tired me.  
They still seem to be fast asleep though and so I let them cast over Phil again, still laying almost flat on the roof tiles.   
“How did you even manage to fucking get on there?”  
I bicker and he probably sends me a death glare – as I said…3 am.  
“Climbed out the window…I’m Spiderman!”  
“M pretty sure Spiderman doesn’t get stuck on roofs like that though.”  
Another glare.  
I think.  
Phil’s roof is just under my window, maybe a few metres between us.  
We’ve never actually made use of that kind of connection, since our parents have never stopped us from meeting each other, and there was skype we could use when it was already too dark out for either of us to want to move our bodies the few steps to the other's front door.   
Phil seemed to be wanting to take the first step then.  
“Spiderman has his bad days too.”  
He seems to be sulking, telling from his voice and I can’t help but chuckle again – then I hear something creak.  
“Was that – was that the fucking roof tiles?”  
“Oh my god.”  
“PhIL?!”  
“Shite-“  
Another creak.  
“Fucking hell Phil- just- just jump!”  
“Jump where?!”  
I push the window open some more, leaning outside until my upper body is almost hanging over the abyss. (Not an overstatement shush)  
“Into my room you shrimp!”  
The tiles creak again – this time there’s also a shattering sound mixed in there – and then I can make out the outline of Phil’s lanky body, standing up and trying to hold his balance by wailing his arms around like some kind of freak.  
“Come on!”  
I want to bite my tongue at the panic flowing through my words but I step back instead, allowing room for Phil to jump – well he doesn’t. Not really.   
As I said, my window and the room are only a few metres apart which allows Phil to literally just - step over and pull himself up.  
But he forgot his clumsiness in the equation.  
And so, as soon as his upper body is hanging over into my side of the room, his feet start ruining everything, causing him to do a half-backflip – directly into the edge of my bedpost.  
“SHIT!”  
Yep.  
My parents are probably fucking awake now.  
Without really thinking, I slam the window shut, pulling Phil up by his armpits and literally throwing the tumbling mess of my 15 year old best friend onto the bed, following.  
And there they are.  
Footsteps.  
“Dan?”  
I grind my teeth together accidentally as Phil’s head bumps into mine as we both struggle to get under the blanket. “Da-an what are you-“  
“Shush.”  
I launch myself over Phil, pulling the covers over us and staying still.  
A few moments of silence.  
Then the door opens.   
“Danny?”  
I try holding my breath in, my chin finding its way onto the crook between Phil’s shoulder and neck.  
Mom huffs, confused, but she does turn back around, replying to something my Dad said as she approximately walks back into their bedroom.  
We wait in silence for a while, bodies pressed together tightly – wait what.  
“Erm sorry Phil I- I-“   
I stagger, trying to shovel off my best friend, only causing our foreheads to bump together as I clumsily try and escape the hold of the blanket roll we’ve gotten ourselves in.  
Fucking hell.  
“Its ehem…okay Dan I just…my head kinda hurts so…”  
“’S your fault for barrel-rolling into my bed.”  
“Your bed's fault for standing in Superman’s way.”  
“Your fault for fucking scaring me.”  
“When did I-“  
“You can’t fucking send me an SMS, telling me that there’s something on the roof and then have me walk to the window in freaking pitch black darkness and expect me not to scream like a sissy you dick.”  
“You’re so girly, Dan.”  
I want Phil to remind him of the time my cousin braided flowers into his beautiful emo hair but I keep my mouth shut, since I’ve just noticed that our breaths have been mixing, due to the tiny gap between our lips.  
“I didn’t mean that I-“  
“Shush.”  
I don’t really think when I lean down.  
It’s like something inside my brain told me to.  
My weirdly wired fucking brain.  
And Phil’s weirdly wired brain tells Phil to kiss back.  
Fucking hell.


End file.
